


A kind of magic

by Backroadsspirit



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brotherly Love, Gen, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, OhSam Birthday Celebration 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-12-05 13:11:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11578755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Backroadsspirit/pseuds/Backroadsspirit
Summary: "And you always told me they don´t exist!"Or, Sam Winchester and the unicorn in the motel room.





	A kind of magic

**Author's Note:**

> I´m pretty new to the archive and just beginning to cross-post some of my stuff from ff.net and LifeJournal, so in the unlikely case you´ve read this before, that´s why. This story was a prompt fill for the CelebratingSam challenge on LJ in honor of Sam Winchester´s birthday. The prompt-word I picked was "unicorn" (I know, okay? Don´t judge me;)) and my beta the wonderful soncnica, who really helped me to figure this thing out.Set sometime after "Houses of the Holy" and the only thing I claim ownership of here is the unicorn.

„Dean"

„Mmh?"

„Why´d you lie to me?"

Quick turn on his heels, head cocked to the side with a frown, more than a little conflicted between outrageous denial and _which time?_

"Don´t really understand that question, Sammy." Guard up, carefully treading this unstable conversational grounds.

"But it´s lit´rally right there. Right behind ya. An´ you always told me they don´ exist."

Sam´s voice edging towards whiny, Dean´s finger finding the trigger. A slow 360, scanning every inch of their room, hard-learned scrutiny: Hideous pink-striped curtains, an antique dust-covered pot flower kinda looking like it´s patiently awaiting its chance for world domination. But no threat.

Nothing.

Lowering the gun, eyes wandering back towards the 6´4 feet of little brother currently sprawled out on the bed by the window. The corners of his mouth rise. _Oh, this is going to be good._

"Told you what doesn´t exist, Sammy?" All wide-eyed innocence, while his hand´s slowly reaching for his phone.

Unlock, voice recorder, start recording.

"Whaddaya think, idiot, the unicorn!"

Sam, completely serious, finger pointing agitatedly at a spot behind Dean´s left ear.

"How come you don´ see it? `S all shiny and sparkling."

Teeth biting down hard on the inside of his cheek and _keep it together now!_  


Because Sam´s face. Features more familiar than his own, stuck between impatient exasperation at his brother´s incapability and honest distress about him not seeing the sparkling magical creature he´s so fascinated by. And it makes him want to laugh but it makes him want to cry, too.

"Don´t you worry your pretty little head, bro, I see something so much better right now."

Going for teasing and missing by miles, truth slipping out between the syllables and damn it,but he feels that the thirty stitches holding his little brother´s side together right now are making him a little entitled.

"But Dean, you need to see ´t, this might be our only chance!"

Adamant and completely lost to reality, stuck in a world where showing his brother a unicorn is worth popping his stitches for. Luckily for him, Dean is faster. Before Sam can push himself up he´s there, hands placed on his shoulders.

"Hey, hey, relax, man, okay? I´m sure the unicorn´ll still be there tomorrow. You can show me then, alright?"

Eye to eye, green to brown, brother to brother. Tension melts out of tired muscles and Sam sinks back down. Not defeat but unconditional trust.

"Yeah, okay."

And finally, their last dose of heavy-duty painkillers proving to be worth the money they didn´t pay for them. Breathing evening out, eyes slipping shut, body going limb and it feels like the whole room breathes a universal sigh of relief.

_Kid never did know when it´s time to let go. Guess that makes two of us._

"Sleep well, Sammy."

Heaving a sigh that´s equally relieved and resigned. Stopping the recording. Saving it in the file with little-brother-blackmail-material, even though he already knows he´s never going to use it for that.  
Saving it anyway, just because he knows there´ll be times when he´ll want to remember how his brother sounds when he jabbers about unicorns like he doesn´t have a care in the world. Times that might already come tomorrow, when Sam´ll wake up to a stitched wound that would´ve killed him had it been a little further on the right and he´ll have to tell him they were all out of drugs.

_And money. And hope._

Tired legs carrying him over to the chair by the door, eyes lingering on his brother´s sleeping form.

_Well, maybe not hope_.

Mumbling, to himself more than anything else: "Hope you dream of unicorns."


End file.
